


Frostbitten

by PenNameArtist



Series: Plane Smut Oneshots [1]
Category: Planes (Movies)
Genre: M/M, PWP, lord help me, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenNameArtist/pseuds/PenNameArtist
Summary: Direct sequel to 'Three's A Crowd' - but with even more hybridized headcanons.Dusty, Blade and Skipper return from their weekend getaway, and in the midst of poor planning and a hungover air racer, the mentors have to spend a night alone together...
Relationships: Blade Ranger/Skipper Riley
Series: Plane Smut Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105430
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	Frostbitten

**Author's Note:**

> This was a discussion of concept between some Proppie peoples. And then I made a thing. Enjoy crackshipping! Also _HELP ME_!  
> This piece is one of two crack ship fics for Blade and Skipper, and the other one belongs to the wonderful OrganyzedKhaos!
> 
> Rated E - **NSFW!!! Shield your eyes children!!!**

The night of return from the group’s cruise was one that carried an exhausted but peacefully content aura between the three males. Except for Dusty, anyways, still being hungover as fuck. Despite the kind offers, he’d opted to sleep alone tonight in his hangar, and turned in earlier than the mentors had expected him to. But they felt it rightfully so - he had worn himself out good over the little weekend birthday cruise.  
As he left the group and the team then fizzled out for the night to their respective sleeping quarters, Blade found himself in a rather precarious predicament. Until now, the crop duster, the war bird and himself had all been sharing a room on the cruise, which they all seemed fine with - mostly because Dusty stood in between the two elders each night. But now that they were home, and the orange and white plane was choosing to sleep by himself for once, Blade had two options in front of him: either rent a room for a couple nights at the town’s very small, unfortunately not very helicopter-esque motel...or stay with Skipper.  
The air between them had definitely been lifted since the cruise, and he was grateful for the generous offer to stay in the war bird’s hangar as opposed to paying for a cramped room outright, but he was still hesitant, and had every reason to be. He knew Skipper, but he didn’t really _know_ know him still; that spark of friendship was only the beginning of it, and he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable just jumping in like this. But, he figured, this could be a step in the right direction, getting to talk more one-on-one with the older male as opposed to being in the young air racer’s presence all the time. It could prove beneficial in the long run.  
So here he was, late in the night, having put his initial hesitations aside, waiting in Skipper’s hangar. Sparky was a member of the building’s residence as well, though he had his own room to the side, and as Skipper’s appointed caretaker of sorts, he had been given the task of helping to pull out the spare mattress from the closet for the Agustawestland.  
Blade of course waited patiently, eyeing the walls full of war decor and air racing memorabilia, and trying to seem as grateful as he could. It had been a long time since he’d had a sleepover (of sorts) with someone else. Of course, he and Dusty would often share a space whenever he visited, or when there were thunderstorms across the base (Dusty never really slept through them, period) but they were closely Bonded, and it wasn’t awkward or strange to either anymore. This brought back old memories, _old_ memories of get togethers with friends in his childhood years, and teen parties, and _CHoPs_ , the first time that he and Nick shared a hangar together in the midst of a tropical storm…  
He shook the thought from his mind. That one led down a much darker, much more intimate time. This was completely different. Completely platonic. Completely neutral…

And yet...confusingly curious.

Once the two others had a mat out, and Sparky said his goodnights and headed off to his own private quarters, the mysterious silence seemed to increase tenfold. Blade took the time to flatten out and shift the inner linings of his mat to most comfortably accommodate his form, settling down over it. Once he had, his body seemed to suddenly realize how tiring their weekend had been, and though the awkward was still there, sleep felt it was fast overriding his systems, and he dozed off without so much as a second thought.

Skipper was awoken late into the night to sounds of unrest from the helicopter. He cracked an eye open, peering into the darkness at his house guest. His brows were furrowed tight, body tense and sweating, tossing and turning on his mat whilst murmuring something incomprehensible. Nightmares, no doubt. Dusty did the same thing, though usually he was a bit more vocal. And he would trip and stumble out of bed, too. He'd pulled parts in his prop doing that sometimes, and _that_ was a fun thing to wake up to...  
Though he wasn't entirely sure he'd be welcomed to, he really didn't want to sit and do nothing, so he dared to try and wake the helicopter up - before he woke himself up. He quietly got up from his mat, crossing the floor to Blade, and gently pressing his nose into his side - not roughly, but hard enough to shake him back to consciousness.  
Blade slowly came to, breathing slowing back down and frantic tossing turning into tired stirring. He must’ve thought that the plane beside him was Dusty, because he glanced once and then tiredly shifted to allow more room on his mat for a second aircraft to stay.  
“Blade, it’s me..” he said, as though saying “it’s me” gave the barely half-awake helicopter any indication of who was actually there. But the strikingly different tone of voice from the air tractor’s did get his attention, and he looked back over at him, double-taking as he noticed the gull shaped wings. And then the different hangar.  
He seemed to stop for a moment to think, fuzzily, until he nodded his conclusion.  
“Did it again didn’t I..”  
“Nightmares, you mean?” Skipper asked.  
“Yeah..”  
“It’s okay. I mean, I’m used to it.” The warbird told him.  
“Chrysler, even out _here_ I can’t get away from ‘em..”  
“You didn’t have any on the cruise.” Skipper reminded him. To be fair though, they passed out drunk one night and were curled up next to Dusty every night anyways, so it’s not like he was actually paying attention.  
“I don’t when the kid’s around.” He said shortly. Made sense to Skipper.  
“Well..I’ll wake you up again if it happens any more.” he said. Blade nodded, before nodding off again.

At least, that’s what Skipper thought.

“I can feel you watching me.” He heard from out of the darkness. The war bird had gone back to his own mat, but he was still eyeing the helicopter for any more shifts of a bad dream. And until then, he _thought_ he was still asleep.  
“Just...making sure you’re okay.” He said, and somehow he felt that was a lie. The longer he spent just looking at the chopper in the darkness, the more fascinated he seemed to become with him. He had this build that was unlike most Agustawestlands - not as stocky or as big, though he definitely had strong traits of that. There was something else there, a certain kind of elegance and streamlining in his frame, which made him appear sleeker and more agile even compared to his size and relative stock.  
And then eyes appeared from the figure. It was like staring at blue flames, with an icy coating so cold it could cut through your soul. No wonder Dusty felt so intimidated by him. But the way he stared at him was beginning to make the Corsair feel uneasy.  
It wasn’t uneasy in the sense that he was uncomfortable. It was uneasy in the sense that he felt _Blade_ was uncomfortable. He set off vibes that seemed to ward others off, but Skipper knew those signs well - after all, he’d been the same way for the better half of his whole life. It was a guard.  
“I can see right through the mask.” He told him from across the hangar.  
“...What?”  
“Your ‘go-away’ face. Yeah that ain’t gonna work on me anymore.” He told him. Blade’s scowl only darkened more so. It’s quiet for a few moments, and Skipper chooses to look at the window rather than to watch the helicopter’s frozen gaze, as it seemed to be locked on him.  
“Never known a real Corsair before you.” He said suddenly.  
“I’m not surprised. We’re not exactly common anymore.”  
“Were you before?”  
“More than we are now,” Skipper explained, “My family was all Corsairs.”  
“Are any of them still around?”  
“Not that I know of. All I got left to call ‘family’ is Sparky, Dusty, and the guys here.”  
“Hm.” The helicopter said, “I kinda know the feeling. My blood family and I haven’t spoken in...I don’t even know how long. My team is my family now.”  
“Why’s that?” Skipper asked, glancing back to meet the helicopter’s gaze - and suddenly realizing he may have said the wrong thing, from the way the question seemed to stun him. The Agustawestland finally looked away from him, eyes searching the floor for something to watch.  
“There were a lot of things we didn’t agree on...things they couldn’t accept.”  
“...Your last companion?” The Corsair ventured, suddenly questioning whether he had actually just asked that. A moment’s silence, and then:

“...Yeah.”

Skipper remained silent, letting the air fall silent between them. Whether they had a forged link through Dusty or one all their own, he knew then the kinds of inner turmoil the other had long since been facing. Probably still did. The link formed between them then was one of a keener understanding of one another, and amidst the silent storm, Skipper rose from his mat to cross the space between them once more.  
He hunkered himself down in front of the younger male, who looked up questioningly back at him. But it wasn’t as hard a stare as before; in fact, as the Corsair stood there over him, as though shielding him from the draft coming in through the window, his eyes seemed to soften somewhat between their apparent link. He realized that he didn’t have to, and really _couldn’t_ be a heart of stone to Skipper anymore. There was no point in withholding the obvious. But it was learning to trust being vulnerable again, being able to say this one other plane was allowed to see the side of him he only ever saw in himself. He wasn’t Dusty, and he wasn’t Nick, and he wasn’t anyone from his team. He was his own kind of plane, and maybe one more member to get under his shell a little. He’d come this far trying to, anyways.  
Neither aircraft seemed to be thinking clearly in the moment. Or maybe there was some intangible force in the air that prevented any rational thought. Neither one, so far as the helicopter knew, had taken in any alcohol since the trip, and that was long past now, so they couldn’t blame it on then. Something just seemed to draw one to the other, eyes lost in the black holes of mystery, searching, wondering. Like a child’s mind: naively curious. What darker and more mysterious secrets lurked behind those closed doors?  
Blade’s depth-perception seemed to go faulty as he gazed over the Corsair in front of him. He didn’t know how close they were until metal just barely whispered across the edge of his mouth, sparking, _igniting_ something he couldn’t begin to explain to himself. Skipper lowered himself to shy away at the notice of the accidental touch, but before either could ask how or why, Blade moved back in to leave a gentle peck over the plane’s lips.  
The two males froze where they were, barely touching yet completely and wholly connected. And then Skipper moved in further, daring to face the other damaged soul. Red and blue eyelids both slipped close as they conjoined, lips cupping and pressing into one another in a slow yet steady rhythm. There didn’t need to be hesitations or detailed explanations behind their actions. This was simply a way of stating the open facts; “I know what it’s like. I want to make it better, just a little.”  
Both stopped breathing for a second, but seemed to have realized that fact at the same time. Just hearing one another’s breaths becoming quicker, more trailing with each exhale, was enough to start up a fire between them. Heat emerged from their frames, though it’s exact origin felt unclear; it travelled through both males, from nose to tail, canopies to landing gear, in a fuzzy yet deliberately passionate comfort. It was a distantly familiar feeling, but not so familiar that they knew the implications behind it. Every time the feeling would surface, it was always just a little bit different. A little more personal.  
“Mm..” With each tilt or press of the two’s mouths against one another, their breaths became more vocalized, more heavy with lust. It didn’t take long before they began to drift off of one another’s fronts to explore elsewhere. Blade starting trailing down the corsair’s front, down to the crook of his left wing, leaving a ghosted breath of touch and warmth over the elder’s plating.  
The last thing either wanted to think about then was Dusty, how he’d feel knowing this. In truth, it would be unlikely he’d ever even find out, but that didn’t stop the fear of confrontation in the Agustawestland’s mind. It was that fear that seemed to pull him off of the F4-U Corsair then, eyes staring ahead blankly as he seemed to lose himself.  
It was Skipper then that brought him back down to earth. “He doesn’t have to know.” He told him, reading his thoughts. “This doesn’t have to mean anything.”  
It did mean _something_ , but it wasn’t the something that most would assume. It wasn’t love - at least, not in a long-term sense - but it was definitely a feeling of recognition, understanding. It was a newly found trust between the two mentor figures, something built not by a teacher-student relationship or a potential love interest, but between two wounded warriors who have faced the same demons.  
_‘Let go of your thoughts,’_ Blade could hear him say in the back of his mind, _‘Let yourselves be happy.’_  
Once he’d been shook from his daze, he knew then what he wanted. The dark blue plane remained patient as they slowly rebuilt the fire that had taken a gust of wind or two, and before he knew what was happening, the older male felt the point of the helicopter’s muzzle begin to slip under his left flank. A greater thrill suddenly sparked in his core, and he realized this was about to become a whole lot more.  
Skipper had mistakenly believed that Blade was a more closed-off individual, and a more ‘traditional’ lover. That is, until he remembered where he came from. He had a past in LA, and he’d probably seen - and learned - a few things from his youth and time there. It was the only logical explanation he could think of as to why he practically melted under the younger’s touches.  
Whether deliberate or not, Skipper couldn't help but shudder at the sheer heat and moisture of the other's breath, dangerously close to his sensitive panelling. It grew closer and hotter still, until something smooth, wet and muscled drug over the crease of his ventral access panels, causing the older male to gasp. The heat of Blade's tongue was downright _boiling_ , but it felt so good as he rolled it back across his underside, ensuring no surrounding plating was to remain dry. Skipper was starting to help in that aspect, his insides starting to feel tight and wet on their own.  
"A-ahh.." Skipper leaned into his right landing gear as Blade started to push further into him, tongue weaseling into the central line between the flaps of his panels, pulling them gently apart. When he'd pushed about halfway through, the Corsair dared to let himself go the rest of the way, and he didn't regret his decision once the helicopter started digging in. His tongue would flick or stroke over certain points all over his entrance that gave him full-body shivers, ailerons lifting and tightening as he was explored. With each shiver and flinch, the red and white chopper only seemed to grow more confident, licking and kissing and gently sucking over the rubbery tissue, his senses growing high off of the plane's scent and taste.  
By the time he'd pulled away, leaving an impressionist painting of fluids all over the warbird's underside, said bird looked so passionately dazed, he was almost cross-eyed. It had been a long time since he'd been touched so intimately, explored so lustfully. And maybe it was the unexpectedness and unpredictableness from the fire chief that caused such a peak of euphoria. Regardless of reason, it was enough of a drive that his malehood had then slid out from its sheath, and glancing to his side, he could already tell the ideas quickly forming in the helicopter's mind as he watched.  
"H...had enough experience?" He asked, wondering if the taller of the two aircraft was contemplating being able to take him.  
"Have _you?_ " He heard the chief reply darkly, before his nose dipped back down under him. The only sound Skipper was capable of making then was a long, low moan, as he felt his cock being re-encased in a humid heat that wasn't his own.  
There was no question about it; He had done this before. There was something about the way he moved, the way his tongue reached and curled, or how easily he took the Corsair's length, all the way to the hilt and back, timing and pacing himself just right so that the older male was always just on the edges of pleasure, but never enough to be sent over the edge. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing and how he was doing it, even when the plane above him would jerk and move or fight to keep himself from humping his nose. He gave into the fires that claimed him, waiting to be allowed release.  
To be fair, on Blade's end he wasn't sure he'd ever handled a challenge this big. Sure, he had his tricks, but it still burned when the Corsair's dick would be lodged halfway down his throat, and it had been a while since he'd tested his ability to hold back his gag reflex in doing so. But the longer he pressed on, the easier it became. He found a rhythm of attack and he stuck to it, only breaking it to surprise the plane out of his own rhythm of lustful panting, earning him some encouraging cries.  
Soon, he could feel the other growing restless, beginning to move above him and incite a final release. Blade didn't hold him back as he took him down one more time, preparing for that gush when he finally came in his mouth. There was a desperate cry as the Corsair suddenly pushed himself up against the helicopter's face, and then the blindingly good feeling of finally reaching his peak, tongue hanging out to the side as he drooled out a moan, dick still pulsing hard on the younger male's tongue.  
He slowly began to slide off the air boss's face once he'd spent, the two sharing a look lost for words as they came back down to face one another. Blade didn't even give a second thought as the plane claimed his mouth again, and suddenly he felt his tongue slipping inside, taking back the leftover taste of his own seed on the other's tongue.  
The heat of desire between them only seemed to grow more intense from there. What was once soft brushes and whispering trails were now full-mouthed bites and scraping of teeth. Skipper had a feeling the chopper was down for getting a little painful, and as he'd sharply gnawed into the wing-like ridge in his left side, he was rewarded with a hearty moan and a growl out of his dual engines.  
He continued his onslaught of denting the metal across Blade's tail boom down to his fins, and as he circled around to trail back up his body, he let his gull-shaped wing slide up under his tail, down to the base of it, where it began to slope more sharply downward towards his belly. There, hidden in plain sight were a pair of panelled entrances. Where Skipper had only one to use both ways, helicopters like Blade were sequentially hermaphrodites - one set of each reproductive equipment was available, but only the primaries were dominant and ‘active’. Being a dominant male, his would then be the set further down and closer to his tanks.  
But Skipper didn't plan on being picky, _or_ predictable. He had two things to play with, and one in particular was calling for his attention. Blade must have known what he was thinking, too, because as soon as he made to try and mount him, the red and white aircraft pulled his tail away to the side.  
"Dormant doesn't mean incapable.." He huffed, halfway between lust and warning.  
Skipper chuckled at the remark, "it's one time...and besides, _I'm experienced_."  
Blade seemed stiffer than before when he tried again to mount him, using the outer "wing" at his side as a step-stool to swing his other landing gear onto his tail boom. It took a little grunt of effort to reach up that far, but he made it.  
Skipper was glad he had a wall close by, because his back wheel was just _barely_ touching the floor, and the corner of his sponson sloped off early. He would need to be careful not to make a split out of his inward-folding landing gear. He lowered his body as close to Blade's as possible, waiting to feel him relax under him.  
The added weight felt strange to the helicopter, who was used to something lighter, but it wasn't uncomfortable by any means. If anything, he actually enjoyed the way Skipper's landing gear squeezed against the base of his tail, and the way his weight pushed him down. He was almost going to wonder when he'd start, when he suddenly felt the head of the shaft he'd since had in his throat now pushing against his primaries. Oh but it didn't end there; Skipper deliberately readjusted himself, sliding his member up to line up with his _secondaries_ instead.  
"Ever been fucked in here?" He asked openly, rubbing his phallus against the helicopter's panel to get a reaction strong enough to be granted access.  
"Well...I can't say I have, on _purpose_ before…" the younger male panted, trying to hold himself back as long as he could, "But it's happened.."  
"Mm..well now you're gonna." Skipper said.  
"And why's that?" Blade challenged - panel ready, but still purposefully closed.  
"Cuz' I _said so_..." Skipper growled, engines rumbling darkly above the chopper. The vibrations of his engine coupled with his persistent rubbing finally earned him passage - against Blade's better judgement.

"O-ooh..hh, hHahh!"

Skipper was glad he'd been well serviced before this, because the helicopter's depths weren't as 'ready' as he might have been led to believe. He had to make a few pumping motions to even get himself enough of a lubrication to slide all the way in. Once he had though, _oh_ he felt good. He paused for a moment just to catch his breath - he was already pretty well spent, but even with slightly less energy, he was still fired up and ready to fuck.  
He made his first thrust more of a readjustment, seeing how far he could reach and how hard he could move while balancing his right landing gear against Blade's right sponson. The movement, however, seemed to have gotten Blade riled up too, and he squirmed under the older male's weight, body shivering and shuddering in anticipation.  
He'd only ever used his secondaries like this one other time, and not for very long. It was while he and Nick were still new to each other, still figuring each other out. The younger, less experienced Hughes had ended up fucking his secondaries by accident, on account of not looking - or caring - so long as he knew he was _in_ the older heli. Blade had initially tried to protest then, but had melted into a moaning, shouting mess of unintelligible words and noises once the younger had started pounding into his tender walls. Thankfully, they hadn't gotten into any situations like that afterwards, and Blade - as far as he knew - didn't have any consequences from using his dormant set the one time. They were always careful after that.  
He was at an age now where reproduction was still very capable, but nearing the realm of 'difficult'. It would have to take more than a one night stand to get any risk of offspring, but it could take as little as one night to get the secondaries up and running to bear any. He hoped that wouldn't be the case tonight.  
His concerns, however, were very quickly cast from his mind as Skipper started a steady rhythm on top of him, sending waves of pleasure through his body with each stab of his hard cock into the younger's body. The Corsair groaned above him as the younger’s tunnel stretched and tightened with every thrust, tender and soft but also slick and tight. His scent wasn't helping matters, only driving the war bird to thrust deeper and harder still, making the air boss writhe and moan from the assault.  
His landing gear started to instinctively lock with every hump forward, but they would come loose again as the airplane pulled back out of him, putting him into a hard rocking motion similar to standing in the midst of an earthquake. Thankfully, the navy blue plane hadn't slipped off of his ledge yet through all the movement.  
But then he got down lower, leaning up into the Agustawestland's body, thrusting up hard and hitting his G-spot with experienced precision, and all bets were off. Blade practically screamed, body jerking hard under Skipper and causing his gear to slip off of the sponson that held most all of his weight on him.

"Ahgck!"

He scrambled for purchase of the ledge, or to let go of his tail boom, or _anything_ that didn't leave him hanging dangerously close to going upside down. The euphoric feelings were still pumping hard through his body, making it even more of a challenge.  
Fortunately - or else unfortunately - Blade had been reduced to trembling on his landing gear, so low to the floor they may as well have been folded up, and Skipper could just barely get a tire onto the concrete to launch himself back onto the sponson.  
Though the slip scared him for a moment, Skipper got back to his rhythm of fucking Blade quickly enough. His moans were like whimpers now as his soaking insides were again stuffed full, and his G-spot raided. Skipper felt like he was falling apart too, against the wet slaps of their metal colliding and the heavy air of sex around them. He pounded into the younger male with abandon, getting lost in the feeling of his slit squelching around him as he filled the space inside.  
He was almost ready to slow back down and pull out of him, deciding they'd done enough for the night now, until a particularly passionate cry from the helicopter told him he was damn close to his peak. Tired and spent as he was, he was also willing to give back what he'd gotten from the chopper, and so with a determined rumble of his engine, he started to frantically buck into the younger aircraft's body, feeling him jerk and tighten and shout until his voice went hoarse.  
And then the rush; he could feel the helicopter's body suddenly go into euphoric shudders so hard he couldn't even control them anymore, his primaries and secondaries both leaking so heavily that it pooled on the floor under them. He was spent good, tiredly leaning against the wall as Skipper dismounted him. Both males took a few minutes each to calm their overheated engines and catch their breath, slowly coming off of their high as they did.  
"Hahh...how…?" Was the most that Blade could voice.  
"I...I dunno how that happened…" Skipper admitted. "But… _damn_....that was good…"  
"Uh-huh…ugh...I think I need a drink…"  
Skipper glanced at the window, where the sky was still pitch black. It must’ve been two in the morning by now, and he hoped to Chrysler that Sparky was still dead asleep.

"You and me both…."


End file.
